


Baby Bump

by CAPSING



Series: Baby, You're Out of This World [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (are you a tag yet), Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alien/Human Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Gore, Kid Fic, M/M, Rated For Violence, Shiro Angst Fest, Slow Burn, probably more i'd get to that at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAPSING/pseuds/CAPSING
Summary: Children can really test the strength of a marriage.The Universe provides Shiro and Sendak with a pop-quiz.





	1. ETA

**Author's Note:**

> FOR ANY NEWCOMERS (hello) THIS WOULDN'T MAKE MUCH SENSE WITHOUT FIRST READING PART 1  
> *  
> yes hey so uherm see i haven't abandoned this story and i'm posting this short intro (without the kid yet) as sort of like, getting it out there, before i'd be too awake to realize what i'm doing  
> i think i kind of needed to hold this fic until i got it just right and to control everything about it but maybe i can post it and, at worst, revise it later  
> yeah

They say that in space no one can hear you scream.

They’re wrong.

Sendak has excellent hearing.

 

Regardless, Shiro finds that he rarely has to raise his voice; Sendak’s attentiveness towards him hadn’t declined those past four months they’ve spent together. Sendak still sits with him during meals and at some point even starts telling Shiro of “what transpired through the past cycle” (because asking Sendak how his day had been didn’t work quite as well).

So Shiro tries not keeping it all to himself, all those conflicting emotions that he’s so used to casually brush off or suppress. Queerly enough, the alien environment he’s integrated with made his Human qualities more prevalent; he can no longer just throw the responsibility of figuring out why he’s upset onto someone else. Sendak, after all, had been trying his best to adjust to Shiro’s quirks and inherent wiring.

It’s only fair that Shiro would respond in kind.

 

With no other human to communicate with and sort out his thoughts, it does take a while before Shiro can truly understand when he’s feeling.

 

“I think I’m depressed,” He tells Sendak over dinner. His voice is soft, but if there’s one benefit for Sendak’s ears is that Shiro seldomly needs to repeat himself, even with the hall buzzing with the crew in the tables around them. Their contact with Shiro is minimal, but not all of them outright ignore him, which he appreciates. Other than Haxus, no one had been unkind to him – and Haxus, Shiro thinks, is just a nasty person, and there’s probably one in every other corner of the galaxy.

“Depressed?” Sendak inquires, in that tone that means he has no clue what’s Shiro on about. They’re still learning one another, and sometimes it’s tiresome playing teacher. If there’s one thing Shiro hadn’t quite expected to miss in space, where possibilities are beyond infinite – it’s Google.

“It’s… difficult to explain.” Shiro sighs, shifting under Sendak’s gaze. “It’s a mental state. But a negative one.” He chews on a bite and hopes not to offend some Galran sensibility, that seemingly pop out of nowhere on virtual non-issues.

“You seek to amend this state, then?” Sendak asks, and Shiro smiles despite himself.

“Yes. I don’t enjoy it.”

“I understand.” Sendak replies, quick to offer solutions. “Would amending it require to increase the frequency of the hugs? Their quality?”

Shiro snorts a laugh into his next bite, because Sendak can be unintentionally sweet, and it makes Shiro’s chest tighten in a manner he doesn’t care to think about too deeply.

“No, their quality is fine. I think I might have a vitamin deficiency.”

Shiro goes on explaining that Earth has a sun and the importance of sunlight and Vitamin D, rejecting Sendak’s offer to involve the Druids in the issue in order to assure Shiro’s health. The Druids creep Shiro out, and besides, he wouldn’t have them meddling with the food formula again, when it can finally settle in his stomach. They banter, just a little, before Sendak walks Shiro back to their room, then heads off to settle other matters, as commanders of spaceships are often required to.

 

(Shiro really hopes it’s a vitamin deficiency.)

* * *

 

Needing sunlight in order to have your brain function properly is a strong argument in Shiro’s favor, when discussing Shiro’s eligibility for joining on-planet missions. Sendak’s strongly opposed to it, and the most frustrating thing about it is that Shiro can’t figure out why.

Sendak tells him Shiro’s unacquainted with the technology – so Shiro learns how to operate vehicles and weapons, how to do readings on the detectors of atmosphere and its components, then takes his time to calculate which compositions are acceptable to his lungs and epidermis, and even creates a Shiro-Scale of durability in those conditions.

Then Sendak comes up with the excuse that Shiro isn’t equipped to deal with hostile forces that come up in on-planet missions, and when Shiro reminds him he’s military, as well, Sendak is unimpressed. So Shiro takes to the Galran simulators, which are quite thrilling – some of them are like a extremely painful version of paintball or laser-tag on Solo-mode. He takes his time learning physical combat from the androids in the training room, adjusting himself to unfamiliar styles of movement and a wide variety of body-types capabilities.

It takes around one more month after that before Sendak allows him to join exploration missions, and another three before Sendak lets Shiro venture on his own. It involves some heated arguments and Shiro reminding Sendak he is not an entirely incompetent creature (while also taking to hiding Sendak’s communicator and portable console, and jamming his bed mechanism twice).

Shiro knows Sendak means well – that he can’t afford to lose Shiro, that their arrangement (it’s still pretty embarrassing to think about it as a marriage) is important to the Empire until the relations with Earth would be sorted and regulated, to fit neatly into the tight little box Emperor Zarkon has for it. Shiro is still told that he would be assigned as a moderator in the negotiations between the parties (which he doubts would be much of a negotiation, and suspects would end up more of a dictation) – and would also serve as an advisor to the representatives of the Galra Empire (and can’t he picture his father’s scowl in the media right now, denouncing Shiro before all the world to see.)

After all, there’s only so much time one could stay on a spaceship with its recycled air and its fake-sun-rooms. Especially with the view from the command deck so clear and with Shiro’s retinas still in place.

 

“It’s called Cabin Fever,” Shiro explains to Sendak in their room, aware that he’s feeling particularly prickly and not wanting to cause a scene. “Humans don’t do well in captivity.”

“ _Captivity_?” Sendak bristles unexpectedly, and Shiro bites his tongue. Sendak could throw a hissy-fit on the strangest things while being completely blasé to issues that dye Shiro twelve shades of red. “Is that what you feel like? A prisoner?”

“I didn’t mean that,” Shiro puts his hands up to reassure him, though they’re still working on reading each other’s body language. Sendak tolerates that Shiro doesn’t feel comfortable with extended eye-contact; Shiro tolerates Sendak’s impenetrable façade, which only cracks when he says something patronizing.

(Or hugs, but Shiro is too upset to consider that at that moment.)

Shiro sighs, leaning against the wall that contains their beds. To his left, Sendak looms in his armor, fur slightly puffed up in annoyance. Shiro knows he offended him, but feels a bit too prideful to apologize; not before Sendak relents him his own freedom and stops coddling him.

“Sendak, I can’t stay on the ship all the time. I’m bored. I’m still learning how to read, and most of your crew are afraid to talk with me.”

Sendak opens his mouth to argue, but Shiro stops him with a shake of his head.

“It’s fine, it’s not anyone’s fault. They respect you, and we’ll figure it out, but for now, I’d really appreciate if I could accompany you to a few of the missions. Nothing risky.”

Sendak looks like he just swallowed a particularly sour lemon, which is pretty much his default expression. His fur loses volume as the silence stretches between them.

 

Until Sendak’s communicator beeps.

‘Saved by the bell’, Shiro amuses himself with the thought. More than Google, he wishes there was someone he could share pop-culture references with. He doesn’t yet have any with Sendak.

He wonders if some day he will.

 

“I’ll consider your arguments.” Sendak speaks after tapping a few buttons on the device. “I am needed at engineering – have a satisfying rest.”

“Thank you,” Shiro smiles. “Have a good shift.”

Sendak grunts in acknowledgement and makes a dignified retreat.

Shiro, stuffing another purple blob into the sock in the bottom of his bed, knows he had won – and his dreams are sweet.


	2. Expecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INTRODUCING -!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I FORGOT TO MENTION – My thanks to serpensanima for sponsoring this story by donating to [Hope For Paws](https://www.youtube.com/user/eldad75).  
> tldr they wanted to pay for the story, I’ve said no – and we compromised that whatever they’d would’ve liked to pay me, I’d rather they donate to Hope for Paws, which is an animal rescue organization in the USA. Thank you! ♥
> 
> in other news: remember all the icky violent stuff from the first part? well just a heads-up that’s going to be a thing that might pop-up from time to time so consider yourself warned
> 
> thanks for all of your support and enthusiasm. It means a lot to me. ♥

 

The thirteenth mission doesn’t have any remarkable qualities.

A routinary mission to an unnamed planet that’s en route, including a short scouting mission on its surface. Sendak is never quite clear on the purpose of those missions, considering that he’s a war ship commander, not an expeditioner. Shiro suspects that Galra, too, have a form of cabin fever, or maybe of wanderlust – even if it’s not explicitly acknowledged. Though, he thinks as the scouting ship lands, it’s more probable Shiro is projecting again.

It’s not Shiro’s first rodeo, but it’s every bit as exhilarating (sans the unfortunate cattle involved). No matter where he steps on the terrain, he’s the first human to ever do so. When there was no more territory to undercover on Earth, Shiro turned to the stars, and they smiled down on him (or laughed behind his back). Every mission, even on a supposedly uninhabited planet, has nervous, excited jitters running through him. He feels he’s making history, even with no one to tell it to. Looking out onto this new world, with its dimmed sun and the huge moons in its sky, Shiro is content to do nothing but trekking in the established perimeter.  

They start of as a group of twenty-one soldiers, including both Sendak and Shiro. All have their standard issues rifles (aside from Sendak, who has his huge right arm instead), along with their armors and helmets. The helmet covers their eyes, but not their mouth. Shiro ranked the planet a nine in his Shiro-scale, with the atmosphere being breathable without notable effects until a cycle of two – the mission isn’t scheduled to last that long.

The planet – or the place they’ve landed on, anyway – is mostly a dust brown of rubble and rocks; there’s no vegetation or much of anything. The only sounds Shiro hears are everyone’s boots marching on the ground. Galra aren’t very chattery, at least with their Commander and with Shiro being within earshot.

Sendak, for his part, seems to know where he’s headed; after a couple of hours, they’ve reached a more rocky terrain, with hills of different heights popping around, and a lone, ginormous mountain lurking in the horizon. They don’t get a respite; instead, they’re told to part and report back to an assigned spot within a xhil. Galra don’t do “going in pairs for safety measures”, which suits Shiro just fine. He can feel Sendak’s eyes on him as he takes to a random direction, away from the others. He knows Sendak doesn’t like it, but Sendak doesn’t have to – Shiro would not be coddled like a first-year-cadet. He’s a capable person as any on the ship.

Shiro lets a sense of detachment wash over him, walking on an alien planet, wearing alien clothes and armor, carrying alien weapon. This surreal reality he’s immersed with seems like an ongoing mirage and makes so little sense. Shiro just isn’t the type of person who has such things happen to him; he doesn’t think any type is, really, up until this “marriage” business. Sure, he entertained the thought of aliens – anyone on any space-oriented organization would do so – but never on this scale. Kerberos, for one, was on the relatively familiar Milky Way. Shiro has no idea if this planet is even visible on the night sky, back on Earth.

Back on Kerberos, there were also Sam and Matt to share the wonder with. He doesn’t think it’d work quite as well with Sendak. He feels conflicted about Sendak, and vaguely guilty; the nagging dinner conversation about Sendak’s motive for participating in the wedding always pecks at the back of his brain. He wants to attribute Sendak’s actions to a form of empathy, but it could just as well Sendak’s utter devotion to the Galra Empire, bordering on the brainwashing variety.

Walking in between the different stone hills, patches of rust-coloured moss patch the ground at random. Shiro should probably take a sample of that. Would’ve taken a sample of that.

If Sendak had given him any equipment to use.

Walking by the patches feels as triumphant just as it feels hollow; Shiro has half-a-mind to grind the moss with his boot. As he contemplates his options, crouching down to take a closer look at the patch, his brain slowly takes to note a sound it has been steadily filtering out.

At first he thinks it’s just some white noise from the comm; but that’s not it. With no vegetation around, there’s no leaves to rustle in the wind, which wasn’t blowing at any direction.

Still, there’s a keening sound, sounding pained and lost. It’s so thin Shiro has to concentrate to make sure he isn’t imagining it – he closes his eyes and concentrates.

“I think I hear something,” he tells into the comm of his helmet, opening his eyes. “It sounds like someone might be in trouble. I’m going to check it out.”

“Stand by,” Sendak response is almost immediate, uncomfortably loud and sudden in his ears, making Shiro cringe. “I’ve acquired your current position. We’d be there in a glig.”

Galran time-units are strange; glig accounts to around forty-two minutes, and is too close to a xhil, which is about an hour and eighteen minutes. Shiro’s not sure to the logic it follows, if any.

“I can’t wait that long!” Shiro argues, feeling silly, talking into thin air with no phone in his hands. “They’re in trouble _now_.”

“That’s an order, _soldier_ ,” Sendak snaps back, and Shiro can just picture his expression. It’s not a particularly attractive one.

“What’s that?” Shiro replies, halfheartedly faking confusion. “I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up.”

 

He turns off the comm without waiting for Sendak’s reply; the noise would just be a distraction. Shiro knows he’s going to get so much shit for that later, and it’s not that he disrespects Sendak’s judgment – but Sendak isn’t hearing those pitiful wails, stabbing right at Shiro’s heart.

He sets a brisk pace, rifle held close to his chest; the random boulders make way for what appears to be a well-used path.

The wailing grow louder.

 

The smell hits him first, and after rounding yet another boulder – an appalling sight.

 

Shiro’s assumes there was some sort of a settlement here, probably the like of a small village – but now it’s no more than piles of rubble and ashes, with smoothed-down boulders of roughly the same height looming at random. The air feels heavy, even though the air on the planet wasn’t very clear to begin with. Shiro’s heart rate picks up; he steps carefully, between smoldering holes in the ground, cautious with every step, as the wails get stronger and stronger. The holes are wide enough for even Sendak to get through – glancing into one, Shiro suspects it leads into a deeper tunnel, but chooses not to go down that particular rabbit hole.

Finally, he turns around a smattering of boulders, about eight feet high, to a pitiful sight. A small creature is sobbing in a darkened corner, all curled-up; he immediately lowers the rifle and unwittingly sighs.

The sudden noise startles the creature, which Shiro reevaluates – not just a creature. They must be a child, Shiro thinks, letting his human-bias convince him of that without any evidence to go by other than the alien’s size. Overall, the alien looks like a child-sized, mutated anthropomorphic beetle. Its skin seems to be an exterior exoskeleton of dull brown, not unlike the some of the upturned earth Shiro came across of the planet. Two long antennas sprout from its skull like horns, wavy and long like sea-weeds. There’s also a wide tail Shiro can’t get a good look at.

Not the strangest Shiro had seen by a longshot.

The alien stops wailing, only to click its short mandibles quietly, peering up at Shiro with a pair of hollow eye sockets that make Shiro’s gut clench in distress.

It’s like staring at a pair of black holes.

 

“Hey there,” he tries to soften his voice and mask his trepidation, “what’s wrong?”

It’s kind of hard to think about the alien as a child as it suddenly hisses at him, limbs raising menacingly around its head; it reminds Shiro of an injured kitten, arching their back and spitting in face of distress, trying to appear bigger than they actually are.

 

Kittens are still children. Just not human ones.

 

Shiro crouches down, keeping his distance. “Hey, no need for that. I’m here to help you.”

The child continues hissing, waving their limbs slightly. Shiro thinks they’re probably distressed.

“It’s okay,” Shiro tried to calm them down. “It’s okay, I’m not going to do anything. See?” He backs away slightly, making sure to set the rifle aside, then pushing it away. He can almost hear Sendak berating him for this incredible idiotic move.

“I’d just sit here. That’s all. Okay? We can do that, right? Just sit together?”

Going all-in, Shiro takes off his helmet, as well; a child is more likely to freak at a faceless alien than one with a face, and the helmet all but stripped Shiro of his.

Miraculously, it seems Shiro had made the right call; the child is still in his peripheral vision, but the hissing consistently dies down with every breath Shiro takes. He ruffles his hair, trying to brush off the sweaty feeling.

 “I know how you feel,” he speaks in a calm, quiet voice. “Meeting aliens for the first time can be very scary.” Shiro smiles to himself, fixating his gaze on a crack in one of the boulders in front of him.

“There’s no rush, buddy. Take your time.”

Shiro hums, tracing his fingers in the sand, keeping the tune light. This was all so very surreal. What was this child doing here, in the rubble? What was Shiro doing here next to them? Who was he going to save them from, when there was no reading of any life forms around? Yet the child was here, and Shiro could only think that he really ought to have known better than to let technology dictate reality, rather than his senses.

Shiro isn’t sure how long it is before there’s a soft tap on his waist, which brings him to attention; the child extended an extremely long, thin limb Shiro hadn’t noticed, starting from under their waist and ending with two claws, like a bugs’. The front of their body has an odd manner of plating, like the underbelly of an armadillo. The pieces of the armor are spiraling in shape from a center point Shiro can’t quite make – probably around the upper chest.

“Hey,” he tries again, “It’s okay. You can poke me some more.”

The child makes a strange combination between clicking and cooing, then presses their claws against Shiro – his suit, his arms, his face. The claws leave slight scratches on Shiro’s cheek, but Shiro’s squishy skin is hardly the child’s fault.

Slowly, the child raises, still hesitant; it coos again at Shiro. Shiro’s brain decides the sound means the child is afraid and unsure, though for all Shiro knows, it could very well mean they’d like to chew on Shiro’s juicy brain and is politely asking for permission.

Shiro slowly turns to them, making sure not to make any sharp motions, as he opens his arms in invitation.

“Come here.”

The child approaches Shiro stiltedly; with each wobbly step, Shiro takes in yet another new detail – they have a wide oval face that ends in a sharp curve on both sides, like small devil horns; their first set of arms looks like Popeye’s – comically thin upper arms that become thick round forearms, ending with three thick claws. Between the twin set of the curved antennas, on their forehead, there’s a brown round bump, significantly darker than the rest of them.

They hobble forwards on short stumpy legs, with two front claws that grasp the ground with each step, before stopping a foot away from Shiro. Their tail extends to the side; thick and flat, it curves like a scorpions’, but with no sting; instead, there’s a dull set of pincers at its end, too far apart to actually grab anything.

As the child stares at Shiro, their blank eyeless stare stirs a memory in Shiro, one he hadn’t had in more than a decade. It’s of sunlight and warmth, and the smell of his mother’s skin as they spend their morning in the forest, watching bugs. Mother never did let Shiro catch any bugs, even though he really wanted to.

 _“We can’t take them away from their homes, can we, Shiro?”_ Mother smiled at him, even as she spoke what felt like the worst injustice Shiro had ever experienced. _“How would you feel if someone took you away from home?”_ She kissed the top of his head, turning her eyes back to Hercules beetle that strutted on the branch. _“It wouldn’t be right, would it?”_

It’s not right that Shiro can not longer picture her face as clearly as he used to. It’s not fair he doesn’t have a picture of her with him. But the memory itself, when mother would still smile – when mother could still take him outside – fills Shiro so suddenly he feels he might burst.

 

The child stops a mere inch from Shiro, staring up at him. There’s probably eyes there, Shiro thinks, and sits completely still until the child ungracefully falls onto his chest, surprisingly heavy for their size.

 “It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Shiro speaks to the top of their head, catching them in a very careful hug. One of the wavy antenna pokes at his hand, and he strokes the curly tentacle between his finger and his thumb. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

The child starts wailing again, and Shiro rocks them back and forth until they settle down, exhausted.

“My teammates would come over here soon, okay?” Shiro asks, though he’s sure the child doesn’t understand him. “Don’t worry, they’re my friends. They’re not going to harm you.”

The child coos sleepily, nuzzling close to Shiro’s chest. Despite their insectoid appearance, a dangerous instinct starts operating within Shiro’s brain, using the fresh sense of nostalgia like a freshly discovered oil-well to fuel its purpose.

“I’d take care of you.” Shiro tells the child, hugging them close, and they cuddle up to his chest in response.

Shiro picks them both up. He takes his rifle first, holstering it against his back. He crouches for the helmet second. The child would make for a good primate; they cling at Shiro’s torso, despite Shiro supporting their weight in the crook of his right arm.

The place is too uncomfortable for Shiro to just sit and wait. It occurs to him that just as much as the scanners missed the child, they might’ve missed some other life forms, and Shiro isn’t at his best battle capacity when carrying a child with one arm and his helmet in the other.

“Let’s head back, okay? We don’t have to wait for them here.”

Shiro tells them, and feels them wiggling a little in response. Retracing his steps, Shiro doesn’t even make it all the way back from the path he spotted that led him there, before Sendak appears, three more soldiers at his back. Shiro’s first urge is to run up to them, but then he remembers that he disobeyed Sendak’s direct orders, and that he’s also carrying a child.

“Sendak,” he greets, when they’re about ten feet from each other.

 

 

“Shiro,” Sendak replies in a very carefully measured voice, “put that down.”

“Huh?” Shiro inquires, genuinely confused. Baffled, he drops the helmet from his hand and starts walking towards Sendak, stopping when Sendak and his crew immediately step back as one.

He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Shiro,” Sendak repeats insistently, “this is not the time for your human stubbornness. Put that _down_ and come here, immediately.”

Shiro looks down at his arms, where the child is calmly sucking on one of their claws, rather charmingly.

“No.” He says resolutely. “And don’t call them ‘ _that’_. A person is not a thing. It’s just a child, and they had a rather bad day. There’s no need to make them _walk_ all the way back to the ship, they’re not that heavy – “

“Shiro,” Sendak repeats, “ _please_.”

Shiro guesses this can’t be good. They’re been married for about a standard Earth year now, and Sendak haven’t used the word “ _please”_ in any context – and certainly haven’t been using it with Shiro.

The child hiccups.

The three soldiers drop their weapons and run away without looking back.

If it hadn’t been to that he’s on an alien planet, Shiro would’ve been sure he’s being pranked. He adjusts his hold a little. “Look, Sendak, I’m not saying we’d keep them, but you can’t possibly tell me you’re okay with leaving a child here, by themselves, in this– wasteland?”

“This is a Letherian child,” Sendak speaks softly, but Shiro still hears the outrage carefully concealed under each vowel, making his unease increase exponentially. “And it should not be here. It’s not even from this quadrant.”

“More the reason to bring them home, then.”

“The Letherians,” Sendak keeps speaking as if he hadn’t heard Shiro, who’s starting to realize he had barely even glimpsed at Sendak’s capabilities of fury, “– are not a part of the Galra Empire, because of their tendency to stick their needles into a person’s eyes and suck their brains dry. Those without brains, they dissect, then chew onto mush. _Then_ they stick their needles into them.”

That does sound unpleasant, Shiro thinks, if not for the fact the child he’s holding has a lot of appendages sticking out of them, and needles are not included in the bundle. Sendak’s probably misidentified their species, which is unfortunate. Shiro knows pointing that out would only incur Sendak’s wrath. Who’s right isn’t as important as doing the right thing.

“They’re still a child,” Shiro says, albeit unsurely, looking down at his temporary ward. “You’d behave, wouldn’t you?”

The child gurgles what sounds like a laugh, and throws their four main limbs in the air, wiggling.

 

Shiro had seen death. It wasn’t that adorable.

 

“See,” Shiro tells Sendak, smiling sunnily.

“You’re not bringing it into my ship.” Sendak hisses. “That’s _final_.”

“Absolutely,” Shiro agrees, “I’d be staying here.”

“You most certainly _would not_.”

“I certainly _would_ ,” Shiro smiles, “since I would not be returning with a person who’s willing to let a child _die_ due to some old prejudice.”

 Sendak grinds his teeth so loudly Shiro can hear it, before stomping onwards to try and glower Shiro into submission.

“Be careful,” Shiro says cheerily, as the allegedly murderous toddler in his arms is cluelessly chewing on their own arm. “You don’t have any more eyes to spare, do you now?”

“You’re insufferable almost as much as you are obtuse.” Sendak glowers down at the child, who went back to gumming their claws. Could it be considered gumming, though, if they had mandibles?

“They’d be the death of us all.”

“Sendak,” Shiro sighs, trying to tamper down his own anger, because he gets that Sendak’s feathers are extremely ruffled over what’s probably a misunderstanding. “Look. I’ve been with this child for a bit before you all came, haven’t I? And I wasn’t harmed.”

“It slashed your face,” Sendak sneers.

“Hardly!” Shiro scoffs, readjusting the child to settle them on his hip and brush his hand against his cheek to make sure. “It’s just some slight scratches, they wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to harm them.”

Sendak glares.

“They hadn’t attacked you or the others, either. Think about it. Are you _really_ sure that’s the– Leetu–“

“– Letherian –“ Sendak interjects.

“ – yeah, that thing?”

Sendak doesn’t immediately say yes, and Shiro seizes it to stress his point.

“– Because if they’re not, we’d just be abandoning some miserable child to die here. I know you’re not the kind of person who’d do such a thing.”

Shiro actually knows no such thing, but he’s playing it by the ear, and Sendak’s got huge ears. He still seems furious, so Shiro’s hoping buttering him up would work, and it seems to – the words have Sendak tensing up. Hopefully, a Galran version of Jiminy Cricket has just awoken from its life-long hibernation in Sendak’s sociopathic heart.

“How about we go back to the ship and make sure?” Shiro suggests. “We’d run the data with the Galran Galactic Index.”

“And if it is a Letherian?” Sendak asks, curt.

“We’d run the data, first.” Shiro repeats himself, holding Sendak’s hostile gaze. “We’d get our answers, then think about what we’d do next.”

Sendak snorts angrily. “Were you truly an officer of rank in the human fleet?” He sneers, “Is this how you’ve managed things back on Earth? With sentiment leading your comrades to die alongside you?”

“We’re not on Earth, Sendak.” Shiro answers, melancholic, dropping his eyes to the child in his arms.

The graveness of the situation bubbles up slowly. Shiro doesn’t feel even-footed at all with Sendak. He shouldn’t feel grateful for Sendak not butchering him on the spot for disobeying him; he’s not his subordinate, but his equal.

At least in theory.

In practice, he’s all but helpless as to what Sendak decides. Would Sendak’s pride allow him to admit he made a mistake? Without even admitting it, Sendak’s proximity and lack of vigilance in the child’s presence all but tell Shiro that Sendak had probably realized his mistake. Sendak is certainly within a grabbing distance, and could’ve easily ripped the child away from Shiro and threw them miles away, had he thought they were an actual threat.

 

It’s all rather disheartening.

 

Finally, it’s Sendak who breaks the silence.

“This situation is my fault.” Sendak says, calmly. “We’d run your _tests_.” He speaks, slowly, as if it pains him to allow even that. “And when you’ve been proven wrong, you’d bring it back here, and would not go for any further missions until you’d undergo proper Galran training. I’ve been lenient towards your different inclinations, and in that, I’ve failed to fully realize how truly ignorant you are.”

The words sting and burn like acid.

 

“Thank you,” Shiro lets the poison drip out of his tongue, following Sendak’s back.

 

It stings even worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Some general Beetle-Kid concepts here](https://twitter.com/CAPSINGZ/status/1075900736591065088).  
> in the original version of this chapter, it ends up on a really funny note with shiro pecking sendak on the cheek  
> how things change, eh!

**Author's Note:**

> i love you all super a lot and i really appreciate your comments, support and love ♥  
> constructive criticism is, as always, welcome!


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